


Make it Count

by serpienten



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, a little bit of short fluff, if anyone at all wants that, leave me a comment if you'd read that, that i'm considering turning into a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpienten/pseuds/serpienten
Summary: It’s cold and rainy when Bucky sees her for the first time. Within three minutes, he’s under her spell.





	Make it Count

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly considering turning this into a series. No kidding. Let me know if you'd be interested in something like this. This is just some sweet short little Tattoo Artist!Bucky fluff. Feedback is very, very appreciated. <3

It’s rainy, windy and cold outside when he sees her for the first time. He’s lounging in his chair behind his desk, a book in his lap and his feet, bobbing to the music playing faintly over the speakers in a lazy rhythm, are propped up on the desk. His day has been a particularly long and uneventful one with only one of his appointments showing up despite the rain, so when he catches something moving outside his tattoo parlor out of the corner of his eye, it makes his heart lift and his boredom dissipate a little. She’s soaking wet, hair and clothes sticking to her body in a way that makes him think she walked all the way here. Bucky closes his book and sets it down on his desk.

By now the woman’s reached the bottom of the three steps leading up to the door and that’s when she stops and takes her hands out of the pockets of her jacket. Bucky can see her hesitate, the gears turning in her head and thinking on it again even over the distance between them. The little part in him that bored out of its mind prays that’s she won’t change her mind and instead walk in here and give him something to do, and the other little part of him that can’t help but be absolutely captivated by her, furiously nods its head in agreement. Her teeth bite down on her bottom lip and her hands ball to fists. Then the door finally clicks open and Bucky’s posture almost instinctively straightens and his feet are on the floor in a flash.

The sound of the rain pattering on the pavement outside gets louder while she steps inside and thunder rumbles loudly before the door falls shut and it’s relatively quiet again. Her eyes flit over the hundreds of designs hanging on the wall. She still seems so uncertain that Bucky’s surprised she hasn’t turned around and run away yet. Drops of water slide down her face, drip from her clothes and create wet spots on the floor. Bucky can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever been in the presence of.

“Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile that would’ve made it hard to stand if he wasn’t sitting and lifting her hand to slightly wave at him.

She’s even more beautiful up close. So beautiful in fact, it transfers him to a total, maybe a bit embarrassing, state of awe. Bucky doesn’t really believe in magic, but this woman just walked in here and managed to completely enthrall him. With nothing more than her presence. She’s put a fucking spell on him with her sparkling eyes, the droplets of water that run down her face that look like little diamonds, glistening in the light of the lamps Bucky had picked out himself because they weren’t too bright and too cold. Strands of her wet her stick to her cheeks and her forehead and the way it shines makes it seem like she’s glowing. Her clothes cling to her curves and everything about her just makes his jaw go slack. Fuck, is all he can think.

And then he realizes what a fucking fool he’s making of himself by staring at her like an idiot and he snaps his mouth shut and coughs slightly. “Hey,” he croaks out and almost hits himself because of how stupid his voice sounds. He clears his throat again. Her smile widens, and Bucky almost imperceptibly leans forward in his chair. Ridiculous. Shoes squeaking a little on the floor, she steps closer to his desk.

“Look, I know it’s late and you probably want to close up as soon as possible and go home, because…” she trails off and gestures over her shoulder at the rain pouring down outside. “But, maybe you could make a little time for me?” Bucky’s ‘known’ this woman for about three minutes and he already knows he’d keep the place open the whole night if she asked him to.

“It’s probably not gonna take long anyways. I don’t want much,” she throws in hastily before he has the chance to answer, probably to sway him, even though she doesn’t have to.

He shakes his head and smiles up at her. “This is my job, sugar. I can tattoo anything you want on ya.”

And then she beams at him and, fuck, he loves her smile.

Bucky gets up and walks around his desk. He gestures for her to follow him and leads her to a room behind a curtain. The leather on both the chairs creak when they sit down and the wheels on Bucky’s chair squeak when he rolls closer.

“So, what can I do for you?”

Something flits over her features at his question but it’s gone so fast Bucky thinks he imagined it. She looks down on her fidgeting fingers before she looks back up and smiles like nothing happened. Now he’s sure he imagined it.

“Well, I…” she hesitates again and Bucky has to keep himself from reaching out and nudging her, encouraging her to speak. He almost has to remind himself that he doesn’t know her and that it’s not his place to even think about touching her. No matter how much he feels drawn to her. Bucky’s jaw clenches and he’s thankful she’s looking down.

“I have a birthmark I’d like to have covered and I… I heard you’re really good at that, so…” she trails off and looks at him, but this time down at his covered left arm.

Bucky follows her gaze for a second. “I’m not bad.”

God, she’s so nervous now he can feel it himself.

“Where is it?” he asks, carefully.

Her fingers clench for a moment. And then she zips open her cardigan, grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it up until he can see it.

The birthmark is two inches long and almost resembles a cut that stretches down her right side. It’s impossible to miss and its color of dried blood does nothing to make it less apparent.

“Why do you want it covered?”

“I don’t like it,” she says, bitterness evident in her voice and a harsh glint in her eyes. Then, her expression softens and she adds: “I just… hate the way people look when they can see it. It makes my skin crawl in a way that makes me want to… disappear and hide.”

Now she looks so sad and defeated that Bucky has to fight to keep his hands to himself. Because he gets that feeling. It’s one of the many reasons his left arm is covered in black ink.

“Could you make it into a flower?” she asks, timidly.

He looks at the birthmark for a moment longer and silence settles. And then he nods. “I’ll do my best.”

He’s rewarded with a curt nod and, god, does he want to see her smile again.

Bucky starts to make preparations, then, during which none of them says a word. She alternates between looking down at her hands, fidgeting and moving nervously, and looking down at her feet which she wiggles slightly.

The leather creaks again when he sits back down and the wheels squeak when he rolls closer to her. He can see and feel her posture stiffen when his hands, covered in disposable gloves, ghost over her skin.

“You know, some people believe birthmarks depict the way you died in your past life.” He’s not very good at small talk, and talking about being murdered isn’t the way to go here, but he can feel her nerves take over and even though Bucky has no problem with silence, he can’t seem to handle it right now.

She lets out a short chuckle at that. “I don’t really believe in that whole reincarnation thing,” she admits.

“Why is that?” he furrows his brows slightly while disinfecting the skin where the tattoo will be. He’s tattooed hundreds of people before her but somehow this feels more intimate than anything in the past. Touching her is like a privilege he can’t believe he’s being granted. She’s like something sacred and he supposes it’s fitting he’s wearing gloves.

“I think you only get one shot at this. At life, I mean. And if you blow it… well,” Her eyes catch his and his movements slow gradually until they stop. He feels the spell working its magic over him again and when her fingers brush against his, goosebumps erupt on his skin that are thankfully hidden under a layer of fabric.

“I suppose you’ll have to make every second count then…”

“Y/N,” she says, a smile playing on her lips, eyes never leaving his once.

“Y/N.” When the corners of her mouth curve upward, his do too. “Bucky.”

And then she beams at him and, fucking hell, he loves her smile.


End file.
